


The Fallen Champion: Chapter 1

by mittensthemagic



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Sleepy Bois Inc
Genre: Blood and Injury, Fantasy Violence, Platonic Relationships
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-16
Updated: 2020-11-16
Packaged: 2021-03-09 21:34:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,260
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27592799
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mittensthemagic/pseuds/mittensthemagic
Summary: SBI fantasy au
Comments: 7
Kudos: 39





	The Fallen Champion: Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> tw // Contains descriptions of blood and minor fantasy violence

_ “And even after the dust has settled and the cobwebs have grown, my regrets will never fade” _

_ * _

I enjoyed being a farmer. Some might call it lonely work, spending hours in those fields all by yourself. I liked it though, being able to get lost in my own thoughts as I worked, entering a state of relaxed well being as the hoe hit the earth over and over again. It was simple hard labor untainted by men, politics, and kings. I had hoped to leave those days behind me. But such aspirations were not fit for a pig with my sort of past. 

It was a typical day for me as I rose from my bed with the red morning sun. The old spring creaked as I sat up and stretched my arms up towards the ceiling. I moved across the small house to the kitchen, fingers tracing the brick wall and hooves softly creaking the floorboards. 

The house was located on a small scraggy plot of land. It was mostly the potato field that I worked with a few scant trees on the edge of the property and the little cottage and stable. Even if a better property could be afforded, it wasn’t a safe idea. Drawing attention was dangerous, so I mostly stuck to myself. I knew a few other farmers and shopkeepers in the area but none of them really knew me. No of them knew who, what I was. The only remnants of my past were packed into a chest in his cellar.

I warmed my hands up against my steaming bowl of oatmeal while it cooled, shivering. It wasn’t even fall yet but around here summer fell off fast. After eating breakfast, I brushed my tusks, slipped on tan overalls and black work boots, and went to hitch the horses to the carriage. 

Rocket standing in his stall when I entered. His deep eyes focused alertly on me as his tail shook flies from his chestnut coat. This horse had been mine long before it had come to be in this stable, having carried me all over the world what seemed like a lifetime ago. In reality it had only been two years, two years since that night where I had run like the coward I was. 

I didn’t have to remember, I saw it every night, every time I closed his eyes. And I saw it here on the back of Rocket, arrows having left scars in the soft leathery hide. My hands ran over the beast soothing him. My mind was carrying me there again to relive his sins. 

Dusk was falling, the sun casting an ember glow across the plains. It set the world on fire. But it already was on fire. “Faster boy, faster,” I urged the horse. Rocket’s breathing became heavier and heavier as we galloped away from the high city gates. The wind howled in my face but all I could hear was Rocket’s hooves hitting the stone road over and over. My cloak flew behind me like a cape as my back hunched over the horse. I gripped Rocket’s mane and held on tight, feeling the heavy sword in its sheath hit my leg over and over again. It all seemed to be well as we settled into a calmer rhythm. I was going to be okay, I prayed. I would make it out, they wouldn’t notice until the morning, and by then I would be long gone. I hoped for it harder than anything in my life, my heart pounding prayers over and over again in my chest. But nevertheless, the first arrow whizzed by my head. And then, a volley. I drew my sword, trying desperately to shield Rocket and I but it was no use. I dodged and weaved but they hit nonetheless. I grunted in pain as an arrow sliced my shoulder ripping my ruby cloak, and another landed square on my hip making me gasp and almost fall off the horse. I could feel my pulse in my temple and I tried to focus on it, trying not to faint as another shaft landed itself in the small of my back. My mind was screaming with pain, I couldn’t think, couldn't breathe. Oh god I was going to die wasn’t I. Rocket was the one who saved me, who kept running away. The horse was an animal after all, it’s instincts driving it to run, run, run even after 5 feathery arrows had lodged themselves firmly in Rocket.

The king, upon hearing the news in his chambers that his prized champion had gotten away, was rumored to have laughed high and loud. And as it’s echoes settled in the corners of the throne room, he threw his goblet through a priceless stained glass window and into the courtyard below. Wanted posters went up all over the kingdom, with rewards getting higher and higher. But they never found me. So I vanished like a ghost into the wind. 

*

Wilbur liked to call the village “quaint.” It was made up of a bunch of ramshackle shops and houses, with slanted roofs and curved windows. The center of the town was a crumbling statue of some sad looking king, his name long forgotten. But the heart of the town was the tavern. Even from a block down you could hear the chatter of the townspeople inside, their voices rising into the air like a flame from a wick. It always felt oddly warm when I came inside, the edge of a smile creeping onto my face. 

Today when I sat at one of the creaky wooden chairs at the bar Wilbur slid up next to me, lute in hand. His fluffy brown hair was ruffled as usual and his face a little bit of a sweaty glean. Clearly he was straight off the stage. He sighed dramatically, throwing his elbow onto my shoulder. 

“I can’t believe you missed my performance Techno,” he said miserably, leaning back in his chair and balancing two of the legs off the ground. He allowed for a pause for one of my signature sarcastic remarks. When none were supplied he continued, “I sang I’m in love with a milkmaid, you like that one don’t you?” 

“Yeah, sure.” I grumbled. I listened to Wilbur ramble for a few more minutes, glad for something to take up the space in my mind. I lazily raised my hand for the barkeep. 

“Everything okay?,” Wilbur said, being serious for once, ”You seem a little quieter than usual.” He tried to make eye contact but I shifted my face away .I hated the way I was like glass around my friends, so easy to see through. Like I was weak. I wanted to tell him, to confide in him. But I couldn’t, I really couldn’t

“I’m fine Wilbur, just a little tired is all. You don’t have to worry about me.” I tried to be reassuring.

“Overworking yourself as usual?” He looked up at the bar waiting for the staff Techno had called. “Where is Phil today? Hey could we get some food over here?” Wilbur shouted towards the back of the tavern.  To both of their surprises, two boys shot towards them apologizing profusely. 

“So sorry fellows, so sorry,” they both chanted, though one seemed far more sincere than the other. One was quite tall and lanky with very pale green skin, his small elf ears just barely stick out from behind his blonde hair. The other was a cheery flower elf, miniscule flowers dotting his face where freckles might be. 

Wilbur smirked, “Tubbo and Tommy what are you two kids doing around here?”

“I’m not a-” Tommy started to stutter angrily.

“We’re working here!” Tubbo interrupted him joyfully, “Phil gave us a job! What can I get for you two?” He asked while Tommy sulked behind him. 

“Some food please,” I groaned as my stomach churned. Wilbur was still quite amused as they retreated back into the scrappy kitchen. 

“Do you know those kids Techno? They’re real troublemakers, they are.” He lazily waved his hand around grasping for words, “Nice of Phil to give them a job don’t you think.”

“I guess yeah.”

“Say Techno, weren’t you talking about needing a new farmhand the other day?” 

I laughed, “I’m not gonna employ one of the kids you just insulted Wil.” Wilbur seemed to have not heard me as he waved Tommy back over. I sighed, “Really?”

Tommy gave Wilbur the side eye as he approached them once again. “What.” he said unenthused. 

“You don’t seem to like this job very much Tommy.” Wilbur quipped. “Not taking Phil’s charity very well.” 

“It was more of a punishment than a favor see,” Tommy whined before turning red. He mumbled something incoherently. 

“What was that?” Wilbur asked. 

“I broke the tavern window and I have to work to pay it off!” Tommy practically yelled and the rest of the tavern turned to look at him, concerned. “Now what do you want?”

“I’m looking for a farmhand is all, if you’re interested.” I glumly replied. “It won’t pay well” Tommy looked a little surprised and then stopped to think about it, sticking his bottom lip out. 

“Trying to poach my workers?” A tall older man emerged from behind the bar in green work clothes. He swept his hay colored hair out of his face and gave me a friendly smile, as always. 

Flippantly I bantered back, “He didn’t seem like he was doing you much good, Phil.” 

“Hey! That’s-”

Phil cut off the boy, “Yeah, Tubbo is a good worker but this one just messes around.” Tommy huffed in protest but didn’t say anything further. His case couldn’t be helped much. “Go ahead and take him,” He laughed. I gestured for the boy to come with me and we both exited the tavern, waving at Phil and Wilbur who were getting into a deep conversation about sand or something like that. 

When we arrived at the farm I gave him the rundown. “Here’s the deal, you see that field over there?” I gestured broadly to the bare dirt on one side of the property. “I need you to bring up the fertilizer I have in my cellar and lay in in the beds of the fields. Pretty simple stuff, but it will be heavy. Can you handle that?” 

“Yes, sir!” Tommy said with enthusiasm, giving a mock salute. He looked quite funny standing there, in his rolled up white cotton waiter shirt and a band-aid plastered across his light green face. I waved for him to get going and he scrambled off. 

We began work just as midday came. Wiping the sweat off of our foreheads as the sun baked down on them, Tommy brought barrel after barrel into the field and I laid it down in row after row. It was strange having another person around and I kept on getting startled by Tommy as he came up out of the cellar. We made small talk as we worked.

Tommy asked me, “Where are you from anyways?” I awkwardly adjusted my limp collar, thinking of how to answer the question. 

“I was born in a small village like this one, but I was drafted to the capital to be a soldier when I got to be about your age.” My talents had been recognized in a fencing match by a high official. I grimaced recalling that man. He had promised me the world, told me I would never go hungry again.

“The capital! Have you ever seen Dream?” Tommy asked excitedly. 

“Who?”

“Who!” Outraged Tommy leaped to his feet to point at me. “Are you living under a rock?” I glanced back at my cottage, with it’s half missing shingles. 

“Yeah kind of.”

“Dream is the new grand champion! The king has had him in the tournaments for almost a year now. He’s so amazing, they say he hasn’t lost a match since he was fourteen.” Tommy leaned back with a blissful smile on his face, his work abandoned at his feet, and continued, “No one has ever seen his face either, he wears this scary white mask every time he fights in the arena.”  
“Oh yeah?”

“Rumor is he’s even better then The Blade was.” I stiffened at that name feeling my pulse quicken. Painful memories bubbled to the front of mind. I sighed trying to let my heart settle. 

“Work while you talk Tommy,” I said kindly. I hoped my fear didn’t show in that moment. If it did Tommy didn’t say anything and we kept on working, even as dusk began to fall. 

In the morning I gave him his pay and sent him back home, after he reassured me he knew the way. Then I was alone, left to stare at my cracking ceiling in quiet once again.

*

It was late afternoon when I heard a knock at my door. I rose from my fireplace and opened the door. Phil stood there wringing his webbed hands. His expression lightened a little when he saw me. 

“Is Tommy still here?”

“No he left a couple of hours ago.” I answered, concerned. 

Phil put his hand through his hair thinking. “He never came back to the tavern to meet Tubbo like he was supposed to. Do you think he could’ve gotten lost or something?” I sighed and grabbed my boots from the corner. 

“Look you’ve got a tavern to run. I’m sure he did get lost, even though he promised me he knew the way.” Phil tried to protest, saying he would come with me, but I cut him off. “I’m serious, go home and I’ll bring him back.” He finally nodded and patted me on the shoulder, a silent thank you. 

I jumped onto my horse and tried to think of what route Tommy would’ve taken. The idiot, he should’ve just let me take him home. Rocket trotted down the old country road kicking up dust as we went. I was trying to be relaxed, and to enjoy the way the sun was warming my face on this surprisingly mild autumn day. But my mind couldn’t help worry about Tommy. My dread only got deeper as I got farther and farther down the road, seeing no trace of the kid. I entered the forest and the roof of the trees cast shade on us and I kept searching. I came to the fork in the road, where one path diverged to the left crawling deeper into the thick dark wood. After a few miles it led back to town. From the other path you could see the beginning of a prairie. Tommy must’ve come to this very spot and decided to take the latter. It did look deceivingly easier but once you got over the prairie it became rocky and hard to traverse. That must be where he was, I decided. So I took the leather reins in my hands and directed Rocket accordingly, resisting the urge to nervously drum my fingers against my leg. 

I finally rounded the hill and the pit of dread in my stomach rose to my throat, boiling. There was Tommy, his distinctive hair sticking straight out beneath his straw hat. But beside him were two soldiers dressed in red and gold. They were distinctively royal, straight from the capital by order of the king. And they were both glaring at Tommy. Worst of all, one’s fingers were brushing over the hilt of his sword. 

The soldiers both startled as I urged Rocket into a canter, swiftly arriving at the scene. The men stiffened as I dismounted, subtly placing myself between Tommy and the others.

“What’s going on?” I asked my tone light but decisive. 

“This kid,” One of them began to sneer, “He was harassing us for directions to some hick town round here. He’s not too bright messing with us, is he?”

I tried to reason with them, “I’m sure he meant no disrespect. Just an honest mistake.” 

“Well then fine “sir” do you know the penalty for such a mistake?” The man asked me mockingly. Tommy gulped behind me, unusually quiet. “Interrupting a royal guard on his mission racks up quite the penalty.” He picked at his fingernails, seemingly bored with the situation

“Run Tommy,” I demanded, hoping we could make a quick get away. Tommy didn’t move, though whether paraylzed by fear or held steadfast by stubbornness it was hard to tell. The air hung thick with tense silence.

The first man cocked his head, sizing me up, and laughed. Drawing his long silver sword from it’s beaten leather sheath he said, “You think you’re tough?” He leveled the point of the blade towards my chin. “Peasant,” he spat. His compatriot sneered. 

I weighed my options carefully. I could take the two of them in a fight, though as I instinctively searched for my trusty sword by his side I found only his cheap spade. Still it would have to do. My gaze flickered towards Tommy. Could I risk exposing myself like this? More importantly, could I protect him should they have to fight their way out? “We don’t want any trouble, okay?” I finally spoke. “Just let us go home and I’ll make sure he doesn’t get into any more trouble.” The second, smaller guard smirked. He gave his buddy an excited look. This wasn’t good. 

“Not a chance.” The first one took the lead, “The question is what will we do with him?”

“Ooh! We could kill him!” 

“Yeah no duh, but how?” The captain paused thinking, sword still hanging in front of me. Tommy gulped. He continued, “I know, we could send him to the tournament. I bet the king would just love to see Dream put his head on a spike!” 

When I had first arrived in the capital I had been taken to see an orchestra. A poor farmer boy, I had never seen such luxuries in my life. I remembered not being able to stop looking up, transfixed by the shimmering chandeliers. The nobles had all stared at me, this odd piglin boy with huge ears wearing a suit not fitted quite right to him. I had felt their gazes on the back of my neck and I had flushed with embarrassment. But all my worries had been swept away when that orchestra started up, the violin strings rising into the air and flowing into the sky. It had felt magical. I felt that feeling again, staring down the soldiers, adrenaline pumping into my veins. 

With the weapon of the soldier pointed at me, the point far too close to my throat, the noise of the wind and the soldiers all faded away, leaving me alone on that stage. The spotlight fell onto me, soft and warm, almost comforting after all this time. The dance began. I stared down the sword, admiring the way the light seemed to dance off the smooth silver. I delicately placed my palms on either side of the captain’s blade, the steel cold against my work-worn hands. Swiftly, I twisted it out of the man’s grasp in a single sweeping motion, sending it tossing, spiralling above our heads. As the blade turned and shone in the air and the other soldier drew his weapon, I pushed Tommy aside. He fell on his palms in the gravel and then scrambled away from the oncoming conflict. The sword landed in my awaiting hand, slightly denser than I had been expecting. 

With great rage, the other foot soldier raced towards me, his blade coming down hard with all his might. I parried, bringing his weapon to a perpendicular stance with the other man. I felt my own sturdy stance as the echo of the strike echoed in the balls of my feet. Good, I wasn’t too rusty at all. 

“Who the hell are you?” growled the foot soldier, stepping back and readying himself. His sword came to his shoulder like a baseball bat. All these humans, they were all the same. A sword should be a graceful instrument, not a weapon of brute force. The man swung hard at my chest and I ducked, throwing myself onto the dusty ground and feeling the wind from the blade graze my back. The soldier was left splayed awkwardly, all his weight thrown to the side and his mouth opened in a surprised o. Before he could regain his balance I swept my foot under the man, making contact with his ankle. I felt the strong boney figure crumple as my blow landed, sending the soldier sprawling onto the ground. I got to my feet, brushing the dust and mud from my work pants. 

The other man picked up his compatriot's sword lying in the dirt and scowled. “I know exactly who you are.” He tried to stand steady but I could see the uneasiness in his gaze. Gone was his cocky confidence, it had seemingly ridden off with the wind. “I would surrender but I know there’s no point, isn’t that right?” He shivered, just slightly, before continuing, “You would kill me where I stand either way. You monster.”

I felt a chill creep down my neck. It had been so long since those words had been spoken to me. Monster. It didn't bother me, it used to exhilarate me. It used to send me flying on the battlefield to prove to them that they had no idea how monstrous I could be. In those days I had cut down people like blades of grass and there were few who didn’t fear my name. But now for some reason it reduced me to rubble. “What does he mean.,.. Techno?” Tommy asked me, his voice wavering with uncertainty. I couldn’t think about that now and so I ignored him, focusing on the task at hand. 

I disarmed the captain easily, flicking his sword out of his hand like a toothpick. He collapsed onto knees, saying nothing. His eyes were shut, awaiting his fate. So much for dying with dignity. My sword lowered to his neck, still in the air. Somehow it felt fragile in my hands, like it might shatter. I could picture slicing his throat, the way his ruby blood would spill and splatter across the road in front of me. He would fall like an angel from heaven, collapsing limply onto the floor. I couldn’t bring myself to do it though. “What are you waiting for.” He whispered, eyes still closed. “End it, Blade.” My heart wavered at those words.

Tommy gaped, the realization hitting him like a brick. “No way.” He said in shock. 

I kicked the soldier onto the gravel and he looked at me truly fearful. With ice in my voice I said simply, “Run.” He and his partner obeyed, scrambling to their horses and riding away as fast as they could. 

I stood there holding both their swords in my hands, truly empty. I felt myself waver, threatening to tip. I couldn’t say a thing. I could barely breathe. 

“You’re champion Blade?” Tommy said softly, almost delicately. I didn’t answer at first, all I could feel was myself crumbling, shattering all over again. 

My voice was raspy and broken when I answered. “Yes.” It was an admittance so held down in me for all this time that I could barely believe it myself. Somehow I had distanced myself from that person. Somehow I had disconnected myself from the things I had done, who I truly was. Now it came all rushing back to me. “Get on the horse Tommy.” He did so silently, unsure what to say. We rode back to town, my body swaying side to side with the rhythm of the animal. I let him off at the tavern and he muttered a quick thank you, before skirting inside. He looked back at me just once before closing the door. To my utmost horror he looked at me with just the smallest bit of fear. I turned, unable to face his gaze. I rode home. 

In my cellar I carried box after box or fertilizer, food, cloth, whatever away from a small cabinet. I would have to run again wouldn't I? I would have to leave this pleasant life I had built for myself. This life that I was undeserving of. The soldiers would be back, I knew that for sure. I reached the cupboard. It was old and rickety, close to rotting. I opened the doors staring through my blurry vision at the contents inside. I picked them up one by one. First was my cloak, deep red velvet and laden with dust. Second was my sword, encrusted with jewels and shining a bright alien blue. And fatefully, the last thing remaining was the crown. The spires were covered with thick milky cobwebs but the rubies and emeralds still shined as they had the day it had first been placed on my head. 

The king himself had bestowed it to me, leaning down from his throne with a gauntish grin on his face. I had stood there grinning proudly, still holding my sword splattered with blood. He had whispered in my ear then, his breath full of wine. I placed the crown on my head now, carefully adjusting it so it faced the right way. I looked in the mirror before me and could practically see him behind me, his fingers curled over my shoulder and his smile widening wickedly. 

“Very good Blade. You are ready to go off to war.” 

  
  



End file.
